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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28473456">Are &amp; Be</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/freshtilapia/pseuds/freshtilapia'>freshtilapia</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Women's Soccer RPF</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Actor!Christen, F/F, R&amp;B Artist!Tobin</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-01-02</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-02-06</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-10 14:26:50</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>12,068</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/28473456</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/freshtilapia/pseuds/freshtilapia</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Christen's life is turning into a low-budget rom—no, no—a ridiculous, over-the-top music video—whether she likes it or not. (She doesn't.)</p><p>or</p><p>Tobin supposedly always gets the girl. But not this girl. (Apparently.)</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Tobin Heath/Christen Press</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>98</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>301</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. When Christen Met Tobin</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>For R&amp;B-prompt anon, Are&amp;Be-title anon, and all the other anons who were excited for the Tobin-is-an-r&amp;b-artist-singing-bedroom-jams prompt, plus Dr. Preathfics, who even made those super dope album covers.</p><p>This is likely not what you had imagined. But I hope you'll like it anyway.</p><p>May we all have a much better year.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p> </p><p> </p><p>It’s one of those Hollywood nights Christen despises.</p><p>Give her a 7-hour award show night and she won’t complain. Give her a 16-hour night shoot and she won’t be anxious or edgy. But give her a party, like hip-hop princess Sydney Leroux’s 25th birthday bash, and she won’t really know what to do with herself.</p><p>She had half a mind not to attend but the movie studio she just signed a 3-picture deal with learned that she’s good friends with Leroux (and therefore, invited) and all but forced her to show up in the name of free publicity, which is why she’s currently sitting in the back of a black Escalade the studio provided, along with a driver and a bodyguard, on the way to TAO, on a Wednesday night.</p><p><em> Today, I will let go of all fear, </em>she starts reciting (the day’s affirmation) in her head after closing her eyes and taking a deep breath as street lights flash across her face. </p><p>Her wild, natural curls have been tamed into softer waves tonight (like they often are) and in the place of her usual large hoop earrings are huge chandelier ones. She’s wearing full makeup, with fake eyelashes and soft pink lips, and a shiny, shimmery, black tube dress, with barely-noticeable spaghetti straps. </p><p>She looks absolutely divine. </p><p>And yet… </p><p>She just can’t shake that feeling of not being…<em> enough… </em>And frankly, she’d rather play someone else than be herself tonight (or most days, really). But she takes solace in the fact that, aside from birthday girl Sydney, her best friends will be at the party, too.</p><p><em> I will take… the courageous step… to do the very thing I fear, </em> she continues declaring in her inner voice as her driver pulls up in front of TAO. Then she hears her bodyguard moving in the front seat, opening and closing his door, just as she finishes her affirmation. <em> Today, I will observe my fear… and my witnessing of it… will transform it into love. </em></p><p>She sighs… then opens her eyes and turns her head to see her bodyguard standing by her door, waiting. </p><p><em> Might as well get this over with, </em>she thinks, as she takes another deep breath before straightening her back and opening the car door with as much haughtiness as she can muster.</p><p>Her bodyguard tries to shield her as he opens the door wide for her to step out in her Manolo Blahniks. But as soon as he does, camera flashes and shutter sounds and shouting start.</p><p>“Christen!”</p><p>“Christen!”</p><p>There’s a horde of paparazzi and onlookers outside of TAO, armed with dslr and video cameras and phones held up high, shouting Christen’s name as she gets out of the car, closing in on her, her bodyguard, and the restaurant’s bouncers.</p><p>“Over here, Christen!”</p><p>It’s overwhelming.</p><p>“Can I get a shot, Christen?”</p><p>She ignores all of them and takes long and careful strides towards the entrance, flanked by two bouncers and her bodyguard.</p><p>“Oh, come on, Christen! Just one shot!”</p><p>She breathes a lot easier as soon as she steps through the double doors, immediately turns right, and disappears inside.</p><p> </p><p>TAO Los Angeles is a cavernous space. </p><p>After (cat)walking the long corridor from the entrance, passing through an archway to enter the dining area up front, then crossing it, Christen stands at the top of one of two long staircases, leading down to a much larger dining hall at the lower ground floor. </p><p>She scans the crowd, hoping to spot her best friends, thinking it probably won’t be too hard, even in the dim light, with LED disco lights flashing all over the place, to find megastar Megan Rapinoe’s short, purple hair.</p><p>There are loads of people dancing, standing, or huddling together, holding their drinks, in the middle of the hall, which has been cleared of tables and chairs to make a dance floor. And she’s looking around so intently that she doesn’t notice the handsome man sidling up next to her, until he says, “Hey, girl. You been standin’ here lookin’ like a tall glass of water and this brother’s gotta tell you, I’m thirsty.”</p><p>Christen resists the urge to roll her eyes as she turns to him, with a fake smile and a chilly reception, and says, “Hi, thirsty. I’m not interested.”</p><p>He laughs, “A’ight, it’s cool, it’s cool. Batting for the other team?”</p><p>“Excuse me?”</p><p>“Hey, it’s all good. Have a grand time tonight,” he smiles, before walking away, leaving Christen completely nonplussed at his question.</p><p>But she doesn’t get to dwell on it because she suddenly hears a woman’s voice, which carries up the stairs, proclaiming, “You’re fuckin’ welcome for this content, bitch!” And she knows which direction to go.</p><p> </p><p>Her best friends are two of the most high profile couples in Hollywood. They also happen to be gay. Super gay. Why they took Christen under their wing, she may never know.</p><p>She worked with Ali Krieger and Ashlyn Harris, whose voice she just heard, on their long-running hit crime drama when she was still a teen and they were in their early 20’s. And ever since they introduced her to their movie star best friend Megan Rapinoe, they’ve been an awesome foursome. That is, until Megan left her fiancée four years ago for Sue Bird, who is an even bigger star, with more awards than the other three combined. So Christen has been playing fifth wheel for four years, single for six, and always the odd one out.</p><p>“Pressy!” Ashlyn shrieks after seeing Christen through her phone, walking towards her, while live streaming on Insta. “Get in here!”</p><p>Christen puts on her sweetest smile, rests her chin on Ashlyn’s right shoulder, and wiggles her fingers at the camera.</p><p>“It’s Christen Press, bitch!” Ashlyn exclaims. “I told you this fuckin’ party is lit!”</p><p>“Oh. My. God.” Megan appears beside Christen. “Look at <em> you!” </em></p><p>“Okay, byeee,” Ashlyn quickly says to the camera, ends her live stream, and turns to Megan. “I know right?! Baby sis is surely gonna find someone tonight.”</p><p>“Oh, stop it,” Christen says. “I’ve already been hit on.”</p><p>“And let me guess, you immediately shut him down—no surprises there,” Megan says before turning to Ashlyn. “What was the record?”</p><p>“From the last time we were out together? Eleven.”</p><p>“Eleven poor souls—couldn’t even get two lines in.” Megan tsks.</p><p>Christen rolls her eyes.</p><p>“Sis, you need to get laid.”</p><p>“Ash!” Christen slaps her arm. “I don’t need to get laid.”</p><p>“I’m serious.”</p><p>“My vibe is working just fine,” Christen says.</p><p>And they all laugh.</p><p>“Yeah, well your vibe can’t kiss you,” Ashlyn points out. “And you need to be kissed.”</p><p>“And romanced,” Megan chimes in.</p><p>“And romanced.” Ashlyn repeats.</p><p>“Was he cute?” Megan asks.</p><p>“I guess?”</p><p>Megan and Ashlyn share a look before Megan sighs, “Well, that’s one down. Do you think we’ll break the record tonight?”</p><p>“Oh, shush. Where are Ali and Sue?” Christen asks.</p><p>“Changing topics quickly, I see.”</p><p>“Pinoe,” Christen whines.</p><p>“They’re getting drinks,” Ashlyn tells her. “I’m sure they’re getting an extra glass of champagne for ya.”</p><p>“What if I wanted a different drink tonight?”</p><p>“As if,” Megan comments. “But it would be great, though.”</p><p>“What would?”</p><p>“You trying a different drink,” Megan says knowingly.</p><p>Then Ashlyn wraps her arm around Christen’s shoulders and turns Christen’s body a little, in the direction of a hot male specimen. “How about that drink? He looks like a tall glass of water.”</p><p>Megan laughs.</p><p>“Guyyyys,” Christen whines some more.</p><p>*</p><p>“Everybody havin’ fun tonight?” Crystal Dunn asks through her mic while standing in the middle of the dance floor, with a huge circle of people around her roaring back in response, including the five best friends, who got a good, unobstructed view of her performance.</p><p>She’s just sung two of her biggest hits, from her Grammy-award-winning breakthrough album last year (as requested by the birthday girl), and has started hyping people up for the next song.</p><p>“God, I love Crystal,” Sue sighs behind Megan and Christen.</p><p>“Home girl’s a phenom,” Megan agrees, on Christen’s left.</p><p>“I think we need to change it up for the next song,” Crystal tells the crowd. “Slow it down, sex it up a little. What do y’all think?”</p><p>Several people hoot and shout, “Yeah!”</p><p>Crystal grins, “I think I need me some Tobin Heath up in here.”</p><p>“Oh, my god,” Sue exclaims, “Tobin is here?” </p><p>“Who?” Christen asks as the crowd’s excited buzz grows.</p><p>“You really need to get out more, Pressy,” Megan quips.</p><p>Christen rolls her eyes again.</p><p>“Tobin Heath. Musical genius,” Megan tells her as Crystal goads the crowd to start chanting, “To-bin! To-bin!”</p><p>“Also one hot motherfucker,” Ashlyn says, from Christen’s right. “And she’s not even my type.”</p><p>“Seriously?” Christen meets Ali’s eyes as she nods from Ashlyn’s right, with an expression that says, <em> Ridiculous, but true. </em></p><p>“Seriously,” Megan pipes up. “If she can’t make you a little bit gay, no one can.”</p><p>“And if you’re already gay,” Sue adds as the synth hook of a new song starts, “she’ll make you even gayer.”</p><p>The other three laugh while Christen looks unconvinced. Then a woman in a snapback breaks through the crowd to their right (like she was pushed) and meets a beaming Crystal in the middle.</p><p>“Tobin Heath, y’all,” Crystal announces, making the crowd cheer even louder.</p><p>With a head shake, Tobin takes the mic handed to her and brings it closer to her mouth, just in time to start singing,<em> “I wanna tease you.”  </em></p><p>Christen gasps in surprise. (She likes this song.)</p><p><em> “I wanna please you-ooh.” </em> Then Tobin and Crystal sing in harmony, <em> “I wanna show you, baby,” </em> before Tobin continues on her own, <em> “that I need you.” </em></p><p>Christen hasn’t seen Tobin’s face but examines what she sees. </p><p>
  <em> “I want your body…”  </em>
</p><p>She rakes her eyes over Tobin’s back—from her honey-brown hair, to her black, floral Gucci bomber jacket, to her tight black jeans, to her limited edition Nike Air Jordan 1s—and thinks, <em> At least she’s got good taste. </em></p><p>Tobin bobs her head up and down, taps her heart, then points her index finger at the crowd, and slowly turns around in place as she sings… <em> “And who can love you like me?” </em></p><p><em> “Nobody!” </em>the crowd sings back.</p><p>
  <em> “Who can sex you like me?” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Nobody!”  </em>
</p><p>Sue is absolutely loving this, closing her eyes, bopping her head, and singing along, like Megan does, while Ashlyn and Ali have eyes only for each other. They’re swaying along to the song, facing each other, and giving each other sweet kisses every so often. </p><p>And Christen?</p><p>All Christen’s mind can come up with—once Tobin lifts her head up just enough for Christen to see her face as she starts doing body rolls—is, <em> Ugh, seriously? </em></p><p><em> “Who can do you all night long?” </em> Tobin winks. <em> “Nobody, baby.” </em></p><p>
  <em> “Nobody!” </em>
</p><p>Crystal sings the next verse, <em> “I want the night…” </em></p><p><em> I don’t know what they see in her, </em>Christen grumbles.</p><p>
  <em> “…for me and you.”  </em>
</p><p>But Tobin sings the higher register in the next line—<em> “So come here, baby…”  </em></p><p>—and Christen’s heart skips a beat. </p><p>
  <em> “…and let me do it to you.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Well, she can definitely sing—I’ll give her that. </em>
</p><p>Tobin slowly strips her jacket off, to hollers and wolf whistles from the crowd, leaving her tight, white tank top underneath, and Christen can’t look away.</p><p>Then it happens again—her heart skips a beat—when Tobin harmonizes with Crystal and hits the high notes—<em> “I promise to give it to you just the way you like.” </em></p><p>
  <em> Okay, she’s really— </em>
</p><p>Hot? Sculpted by the gods?</p><p>
  <em> —talented. </em>
</p><p>“Uuugh,” Ashlyn groans. “Her biceps give me reason to live!”</p><p>Christen snorts.</p><p>Ali shakes her head.</p><p>“Look at those guns!”</p><p>The aforementioned guns are on full display as Tobin dances—with her arms in the air, knees bent, hips swaying slowly from side to side—and goes lower and lower each time.</p><p>The crowd eats it all up. </p><p>And—<em> Wow— </em> Christen gapes— <em> stripper much? Not that I’ve—oh, god—why did I think that? </em></p><p>Megan starts fanning herself. </p><p>And Christen sighs,<em> I need another drink. </em></p><p>Tobin starts dancing closer to the crowd, going around the circle, and singing along with them.</p><p>And Christen tries watching Crystal instead, but then Megan says, “Uh-oh.” </p><p>“What?” Christen turns to her.</p><p>“Tobin Heath is number four.”</p><p>“What do you mean?”</p><p>“See for yourself.”</p><p>Christen turns her head—eyes meeting Tobin’s gaze as Tobin moves closer and closer to her. And then she feels her best friends move further and further away.</p><p>“Pinoe,” she tries grabbing Megan’s hand but catches air instead.</p><p>“Imma get me some popcorn,” Megan giggles behind her.</p><p>
  <em> “On, on, on, and on, on…”  </em>
</p><p>Before Christen knows it, Tobin is right in front of her, offering a hand while still vibin’ to the song, dancing a simple, but sexy, two-step to the slow beat.</p><p>
  <em> “Nobody, baby.” </em>
</p><p>Tobin urges her,<em> “Come on.” </em></p><p>
  <em> “On, on, on, and on, on…”  </em>
</p><p>“Take her goddamn hand, Pressy!” Ashlyn yells in the background.</p><p>And Christen does—on instinct—follow Ashlyn’s instruction as Tobin smirks, clasping Christen’s hand, then placing Christen’s palm flat against her rock-hard—</p><p>
  <em> Abs. Damnit. She really works out. </em>
</p><p>—and slowly… torturously… running it up the middle of her torso, looking straight into Christen’s eyes, and singing, <em> “I…  </em></p><p>
  <em> want you… </em>
</p><p>
  <em> right now…  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> for my lover…” </em>
</p><p><em> You have got to be kidding me. </em>Christen wants the ground to swallow her whole as Tobin slides Christen’s hand up the valley between her breasts.</p><p>Then Tobin brings it over her heart—<em> “If you need a love—” </em> tap-tap-tapping her fingers on it— <em> “I’ll be right there, baby—” </em> before tenderly caressing the length of Christen’s arm… from her wrist… to the back of her shoulder… </p><p>And before Christen realizes it, she’s slow dancing with Tobin, who keeps singing to her.<em> “And who can love you like me, baby?” </em></p><p>
  <em> “Nobody!”  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Who can sex your body like me, baby?” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Nobody!” </em>
</p><p>She hasn’t removed her hand above the swell of Tobin’s breast—she keeps it there—and hasn’t stopped swaying along. But she closes her mouth when she realizes her lips are parted and gulps as she feels her cheeks warming up.</p><p>
  <em> “Nobody but me!” </em>
</p><p>She doesn’t know what to think. </p><p>Her heart is beating so hard against her chest it supersedes the bass line.</p><p>Tobin is being all suave and sexy and… charming and shit. And she closes the gap between them even further.</p><p><em> I wish I knew how to wipe that smirk off her face. </em> Christen groans. <em> Fuck. Did I really make that sound? </em></p><p>Tobin’s gaze falls to her lips… her neck… her collarbone… the front of her dress…<em> “I wanna know… who can love you like me, baby?”  </em></p><p>
  <em> God, I hate Tobin Heath. </em>
</p><p><em> “Who can treat your body as good as me, baby?” </em>Tobin holds Christen’s hand on her chest again, and brings it up her jaw, and covers it with her hand.</p><p>Christen unthinkingly shakes her head, takes a really deep breath, and holds it.<em> When will this damn song end? </em></p><p>Then, all of a sudden—</p><p>
  <em> “Nobody but me!” </em>
</p><p>—the lights go out, the crowd goes wild, and Christen feels soft, chapped lips against the palm of her hand.</p><p>And just as suddenly, Tobin is gone, the lights come on, and Christen releases a shaky breath. </p><p>“How ‘bout that?!” the DJ exclaims. “What. A. Performance. Give it up for Crystal Dunn and Tobin Heath, everybody!”</p><p>The crowd makes all sorts of noise.</p><p>Megan reappears beside Christen, along with the others. “What did we tell you?”</p><p>Christen harrumphs, “You’re all still way hotter.”</p><p>Ashlyn laughs. “Bitch, you were drooling!”</p><p>“I was not!”</p><p>“Alright, alright. Babe, stop teasing baby girl,” Ali tells Ashlyn. “She wasn’t drooling. She was thinking of how many dogs they’re getting and what to name their children—”</p><p>“Al,” Christen groans again, “not you, too…”</p><p>Her best friends laugh.</p><p>“I think this calls for more drinks,” Sue smiles at her mischievously before turning and walking towards the open bar.</p><p>And the other three laugh some more before following Sue, giving Christen the chance to check surreptitiously if she was, indeed, drooling.</p><p>*</p><p>
  <em> You. Idiot.  </em>
</p><p>Tobin stares at her reflection in the bathroom mirror, chewing herself out.</p><p>She really doesn’t know what came over her.</p><p>Yes, she turns into her more fun, more sensual, more aggressive, flirtier alter ego when performing her songs (kind of like Beyoncé turning into Sasha Fierce) but that performance was something else.</p><p>She sighs… then takes her hat off, places it on the counter, and ties her hair up into a half ponytail-half bun hybrid before splashing her face with water.</p><p>Sydney is probably performing, based on the beat and the noise level that seep through the bathroom door. But it’s quiet enough inside that she can hear her own voice.</p><p><em> Why’d you have to run her hand up your body, dumbass? And why’d you have to kiss her—I mean—her hand?! </em> she groans just as she hears the toilet flushing in one of the three stalls— <em> Fuck. Please don’t be her. Please don’t be her. </em></p><p>The middle door slowly opens… and—“Well, I’ll be damned—” a super hot, model-type comes out, in a teeny-tiny dress and fuck-me red stilettos—“Tobin Heath…”</p><p>“Uh… hi?”</p><p>“I was wondering if what they say about you is true,” the model says as she sashays towards Tobin.</p><p>“And what is that?” Tobin asks as she shakes her hands dry.</p><p>“They say you bed a different woman every night.”</p><p><em> Ugh. Not this again. </em>“And you believe all those rumors?”</p><p>The model leans her hip against the counter, standing just within reach, with a naughty glint in her eyes. “I want to.”</p><p>“Why is that?”</p><p>“I’m hot. You’re hot,” the model answers as she runs her index finger along Tobin’s arm. “We can do hot things together.” </p><p>Tobin takes a deep breath. “Listen…” </p><p>“Janet,” the model says as she starts playing with the hem of Tobin’s tank top.</p><p>“Janet. Right. I’m flattered. Truly. But—”</p><p>“But you’re with Christen Press.”</p><p>“Who?”</p><p>“The woman you were singing to.”</p><p>“Oh.” <em> So that’s her name. </em>Tobin laughs nervously. “I don’t even know her.”</p><p>“Sure, you don’t,” Janet moves even closer. “But you could know me. Out of this dress. Bent over whatever surface you want.”</p><p>Tobin gulps, “I’m not who you think I am.”</p><p>Janet raises an eyebrow, “You’re not the lady-killer everyone thinks you are?”</p><p>“I’m better than that.”</p><p>“I heard you were the best.”</p><p>“And let me guess… you wanted to see it for yourself.”</p><p>“Oh, cariño… I plan to use <em> all </em> my senses with you.”</p><p>“Yeah, well, it’s not gonna happen, sweetheart.”</p><p>Janet looks taken aback but promptly schools her expression, gives Tobin a haughty glare, and tells her, “Your loss.” Then she storms out of the bathroom, leaving Tobin alone with her thoughts, sighing in relief, annoyance, and a lot of other things.</p><p>But just as the party noise blares into the bathroom, a toilet gets flushed again.</p><p>
  <em> You’ve got to be kidding me. </em>
</p><p>Tobin instinctively looks at the stall that opens through the mirror and her eyes lock with Christen’s ice-cold gaze a second too long before Christen looks away and walks stiffly towards the furthest sink.</p><p>
  <em> Fuck me—I mean—Fuck… Oh, who am I kidding? I’d say ‘yes, pleas—’ Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck. </em>
</p><p>Christen washes her hands as Tobin slowly turns to face her and tells her, “I, uhm… I’m sorry about earlier.”</p><p>Tobin wilts at Christen’s glare when Christen says, “Oh, now you’re sorry?” Then she angrily plucks a paper towel off a holder and wipes her hands dry.</p><p>“I didn’t mean to—”</p><p>“You didn’t mean to—what?” Christen huffs. “Put me on the spot? Humiliate me in front of 300 people?” She throws away the paper towel.</p><p><em> Wait— </em>“Humiliate you?”</p><p>Christen takes a step closer. “I’m not your next plaything, Tobin Heath.”</p><p>“No, I—”</p><p>“You very publicly approached me—” Another step closer— “and treated me like you want me to be a notch in your bedpost.” </p><p>“That’s not—”</p><p>“Your usual MO?” Another step. “What is it, then?”</p><p>“I don’t—”</p><p>“What? Enjoy toying with women whom you have no intention of dating?”</p><p>“Now, wait a second—”</p><p>“Or think you’re god’s gift to women?” Another step.</p><p>“What the fu—?”</p><p>“Well, I have news for you, Tobin Heath.” Christen takes one more step. “I won’t let you toy with me.”</p><p>Tobin’s nostrils flare as she breathes heavily and rapidly. “Are you done?”</p><p>“Oh, I’m just getting start—”</p><p>“Oh, no, you’re not. I’m not listening to this anymore.”</p><p>Christen glowers as she gapes.</p><p>“Just a minute ago, I was beating myself up for singing to you the way I did. And you have the right to be mad at me for putting you on the spot. But guess what, Christen Press? You don’t have to be such a bitch about it.”</p><p>Christen is fuming, “How dare you—!”</p><p>“How dare me? How dare you!” Tobin realizes their faces are so close she can see the specks in Christen’s gray—green—whatever—eyes looking up. “How dare you say those things to me when you don’t even know me.”</p><p>But her eyeline is right at Christen’s lips because of Christen’s heels and she can’t help but stare at them when Christen says, in a surprisingly quieter voice, “I know all there is to know about you, Tobin Heath…”</p><p>She’s breathing just as heavily as Tobin is and her eyes flit down to Tobin’s lips when Tobin says, “Whatever… I know so little about you but I’m not interested to know more…”</p><p>“The feeling is mutual,” Christen says breathlessly.</p><p>“Super mutual,” Tobin concurs, inadvertently leaning forward a little before stopping herself and catching Christen inhaling sharply.</p><p>“A-and now that we’ve established that—”</p><p>“We’re—we’re done here.”</p><p>“Super done,” Christen exhales and it takes a beat before she tentatively steps back and puts some distance between them.</p><p>Tobin is— “Super—” mixed up about it. But she wills her body to move as she takes one more look at Christen before turning around, pulling the door open, and walking out. </p><p>But then… </p><p>
  <em> Fuck. </em>
</p><p>…she forgot her hat.</p><p>And for several seconds, she’s just outside the bathroom door, standing still, debating with herself.</p><p>Does she wait before going back inside and risk losing one of her favorite snapbacks? Or does she grab it now and risk <strike>seeing</strike>—looking stupid?</p><p>With another groan, she turns around. The door opens. And Christen is wearing her hat. </p><p>Their eyes widen in surprise before promptly turning into death glares. And Christen tries to walk past Tobin but Tobin quickly slams her hand against the wall, with her outstretched arm blocking Christen’s path. “Give me my hat back.”</p><p>Christen fakes a smirk and says, “Oh, you mean this hat? I found it and kinda like it. And you know what they say… finders keepers.” </p><p>Tobin clenches her teeth. “Give it back.”</p><p>“No.”</p><p><em> Damnit. </em>Tobin doesn’t want to make a scene—for a hat. She lets Christen push her arm off the wall and walk away. But she stares daggers at Christen’s back and mutters under her breath, “Bitch.”</p><p>Christen clearly hears her because—without looking back—she retorts, “Whore.”</p><p><em> Ugh! I hate Christen Press! </em> Tobin wipes her face with her hand in contempt then sighs. <em> I need another drink. </em></p><p> </p><p>Another drink turns into five. And Tobin drunkenly thanks baby Jesus for not bumping into Christen again. </p><p> </p><p>Next thing she knows, it’s the morning after and she wakes up in her bed in shock, next to a head full of (blonde) hair. </p><p>She scrambles out of bed, mindlessly pats her chest and thighs, and slowly realizes that she’s <strike>not naked</strike>—still wearing her tank top and boxer briefs. </p><p>She sighs in relief then tiptoes back to bed and carefully lifts the cover off the blonde—then grumbles as she picks up a pillow and whacks the back of the blonde’s head with it.</p><p>“Hey!” Jackie Groenen, Tobin’s roommate slash protégé slash personal assistant, groggily lifts her head up. “What’d you do that for?!”</p><p>“Why can’t you sleep in your own damn bed?”</p><p>“Your bed is nicer!”</p><p>“Get your own nice bed!”</p><p>“You don’t pay me enough!”</p><p>“You literally live here rent-free!”</p><p>“Christen Press lives in your mind rent-free and I don’t hear you complaining.” Jackie rolls over and lies on her back.</p><p>“Shut up.” Tobin notices her pants on the floor. “Did you get my jacket?”</p><p>“Duh, it’s <em> Gucci. </em>And you’re changing the subject. What’s up with you and her? You wouldn’t stop mumbling her name last night.”</p><p>“Nothing.” Tobin picks up her pants. “What time is it?”</p><p>Jackie reaches for her cellphone on the nightstand and then—“Oh, shit! Get dressed—” rushes out of bed.</p><p>“What—”</p><p>“Wash your face!” She starts pushing Tobin towards the bathroom.</p><p>“Jacks—”</p><p>“We’re already late, Tobs! Come on!” She shoves Tobin through the bathroom door.</p><p>“For what?!”</p><p>“Emergency meeting! Cheney’s been calling all morning! And we still need to get coffee!” Jackie slams the door shut and shouts, “Wear something decent!” then runs out of Tobin’s room.</p><p>*</p><p>“I told you,” Jackie grumbles as they walk behind a receptionist through a corporate office in Beverly Hills. “I told you to wear something decent.”</p><p>“I am decent!” Tobin is wearing pants, with a long sleeve Henley and a different hat.</p><p>“You’re wearing flip flops!”</p><p>“We’re just meeting with Kling,” her publicist, “aren’t we?”</p><p>Jackie doesn’t reply.</p><p>“Aren’t we?”</p><p>Jackie sighs as the receptionist brings them outside a conference room and leaves. “We’re meeting with the big bosses apparently.”</p><p>“Whose?”</p><p>“Kling’s.”</p><p>“What? What do they want this time?”</p><p>“Beats me. But I guess we’ll find out.” Jackie swings the door wide open—And the towering form of Abby Wambach greets them eagerly.</p><p>“Tobin!” Abby engulfs her in a hug. </p><p>“Abby.”</p><p>“My dude! How you been?”</p><p>Tobin chuckles, “I don’t know. You tell me.”</p><p>“Oh, no, no, no. That’s above my pay grade.” Abby steps aside. “My wife will tell you.”</p><p>Tobin laughs harder as she welcomes a hug from Glennon Doyle. “Hey, Glennon.”</p><p>“Hi, Tobs,” Glennon replies in her sweet, motherly voice.</p><p>The huge DW outside the building stands for their last names (Doyle and Wambach) and the name of their PR firm, one of the most sought-after in Hollywood.</p><p>“Am I in trouble?” Tobin asks with an innocent smile.</p><p>Glennon chuckles as she pats Tobin’s cheek with one hand. “Charming as ever—If only you’d check your socials every now and then.”</p><p>“Tobin can’t be bothered to check her phone—” Lauren Cheney-Holiday, Tobin’s manager, steps forward as Glennon steps back— “much less her social media.”</p><p>“I have social media?!”</p><p>“Ha, ha, very funny, Tobs.”</p><p>Tobin grins mischievously and bounds to Lauren like a child who clearly knows they’ve done something wrong, then gives her a quick hug.</p><p>“Don’t bother checking, Jacks,” Lauren calls out, which makes Tobin turn.</p><p>She catches Jackie putting her phone away, before noticing the other people in the room, including the most beautiful scowl she’s ever seen—<em> Christ— </em>“What is she doing here?”</p><p>Christen Press sits between two other women, one of whom stands up and extends a hand for Tobin to shake. “Becky Sauerbrunn, Christen’s manager. Nice to meet you.”</p><p>“Tobin Heath. Nice to meet you, too.” Tobin says, shaking Becky’s hand. “Can’t say the same for your client, though.”</p><p>Christen makes an unintelligible noise but doesn’t say a word. And Becky regards Tobin with an amused smirk and a slightly raised eyebrow. Then the other woman beside Christen stands up and introduces herself. “Whitney Engen, publicist.”</p><p>“Hi.” Tobin shakes her hand, before turning back to Becky, then back to Whitney, saying, “Well, you’ve met my team—”</p><p>“Yes, we have,” Becky answers, before looking behind Tobin, “except—”</p><p>“Oh, me—hi,” Jackie says brightly, “chopped liver.”</p><p>Becky smiles fully while a few others chuckle as Tobin says, “Please excuse my house-elf. Her real name is Jackie.”</p><p>Jackie slaps the back of Tobin’s shoulder as Abby says, “Okay, cut it out, you two. Grab a seat so we can get started.”</p><p>Tobin scans the room while Abby asks her assistant to turn the projector on. And—<em> Oh, goody! </em>Tobin grins mischievously. “Jacks, do you have my glasses?”</p><p>Jackie searches her bag while Tobin fist bumps with her publicist Kling (Meghan Klingenberg). Then Tobin grabs the back of an empty chair, takes the glasses case handed over by Jackie, and rolls the chair all the way to the front of the group, in front of Glennon and across from Whitney. And she smiles sweetly at Glennon again and asks, “Mind if I sit here?”</p><p>“Not at all,” Glennon replies with a smile and an appraising look, before facing Christen, who’s sitting across from her. And Tobin glances her way as she sits.</p><p>She looks even more beautiful in the daylight, in a long white vest over a black sleeveless top with a low neckline and minimal makeup on.</p><p><em> I’ll show her pretty—I mean petty! I can totally be petty. Ha. </em>Tobin puts her glasses on and stares at Christen, whose eyes widen a little before she turns away. Then Abby starts, “As most of you already know—” Tobin places her elbows on the table and leans all the way forward, flexing her biceps, which, as she predicted, makes Christen turn to her again, giving her a once-over, before they both turn to Abby, who continues—“a video of Tobin singing to Christen from last night’s party was posted on YouTube early this morning.” Tobin smirks, then turns sideways to watch the clip that starts playing, and props her head up on her elbow, flexing her bicep some more and—</p><p><em> Huh </em>—they look good together.</p><p>She and Christen look good together.</p><p>So good that Abby’s assistant lets out a dreamy sigh—which Tobin notices—before she shakes it off. And Tobin chuckles as Glennon says, “As of 10am this morning, this video has already been viewed 1.1 million times.”</p><p>Tobin suddenly turns to Glennon. “Really?”</p><p>Glennon nods, “Yep.”</p><p>“Cool.”</p><p>“Not cool,” Christen speaks out.</p><p>“Super cool,” Tobin challenges, which makes Christen roll her eyes.</p><p>“Of course, you’d think so.”</p><p>“Of course, you wouldn’t.”</p><p>“This is all your fault.”</p><p>“The video going viral is fine by itself,” Glennon cuts in. “But then, this showed up.” </p><p>Tobin turns to look and—<em> Wow— </em>the photo couldn’t be further from the truth. “Now, whose fault is that?” she gloats as she stares at the snapshot in disbelief. </p><p>It was taken when they were outside the bathroom, with Tobin’s back to the camera and left hand flat against the wall, which she remembers. But then… was she really… leaning? And why does Christen look like she was flirting? Even the placement of her right hand on Tobin’s left arm looks like it was mid-caress, and not mid-shove—</p><p>“This wasn’t photoshopped, was it?” Glennon asks.</p><p>“I was wondering the same thing,” Tobin says. “But, clearly, it’s photoshopped.”</p><p>“Tobin, no,” Lauren warns.</p><p>“How so?” Glennon asks. </p><p>And Tobin quickly answers, “Look at her—” she gestures at Christen—“Isn’t her scowl permanent?”</p><p>Lauren facepalms.</p><p>“If I keep seeing your smug—”</p><p>“Chris,” Becky shakes her head.</p><p>Tobin carries on with a smile, “As you can see, Photoshopped-Christen looks <em> super </em> friendly.”</p><p>Abby sighs, “Well, the tabloids thought as much. They took this photo and ran with it. Now, you’re the talk of the town.”</p><p>“And we’ve been fielding questions about you all morning,” Glennon adds.</p><p>“So the real questions are,” Abby says. “Were you kissing?”</p><p>Christen says, “Of course not.”</p><p>And Tobin says, “Psshh, she wishes.”</p><p>“And are you dating?”</p><p>“Not in a million years,” Christen says with conviction.</p><p>Abby turns to Tobin.</p><p>“Not in a <em> billion,” </em>Tobin smirks.</p><p>“You’re a child—”</p><p>“Is that really what they’re saying?” Tobin asks Abby and Glennon. “That we might be dating?”</p><p>“Yes.”</p><p>“They’re pointing at Christen wearing your hat as evidence,” Glennon does air quotes.</p><p><em> Ha! </em>Tobin smirks at Christen. “How do you like my hat now?”</p><p>Christen ignores her and asks the table at large, “Can’t we just release two <em> separate </em> statements saying they’re untrue?”</p><p>Glennon sighs, “If it were that simple, we wouldn’t have called this meeting, sweetie.”</p><p>“And we would’ve let Whitney and Kling handle it,” Abby adds.</p><p>“But?”</p><p>“The tabloids weren’t the only ones who called,” Glennon says.</p><p>Becky leans forward. “Is the studio involved?”</p><p>“Not just the studio.”</p><p>
  <em> What? What’s happening? </em>
</p><p>Lauren leans forward as Abby explains, “Turns out your studio—” with a nod to Christen— “and your label—” and a nod to Tobin— “are under the same parent company.”</p><p>“And why did they call?” Lauren asks.</p><p>“They want to capitalize on all this,” Glennon answers.</p><p>“They want it to be true,” Abby adds. “But since it’s not, they want to play it up like it is.”</p><p>
  <em> Fuck… </em>
</p><p>“A PR stunt,” Becky breathes out.</p><p>“Please tell me you said no,” Christen entreats.</p><p>“We said no to an outright Hollywood PR romance.”</p><p>“But they insisted we come up with something.”</p><p>“So we pitched a juicier, secret romance to keep the rumor mill going.”</p><p>“And they want a 10-month contract.”</p><p>“What?!” Christen exclaims. “I’m not even gay. And even if I were, I wouldn’t go gay for her,” she gestures at Tobin, who exhales audibly.</p><p>“Oh, thank God. I was worried there for a second.”</p><p>“Tobin—” Glennon starts.</p><p>“I’m not out publicly,” Tobin tells her.</p><p>“Oh, please,” Christen scoffs, “like you need to make an announcement. You’re like…<em> dripping </em> with gayness.”</p><p>“I’m surprised you know the word ‘dripping’ when I’m pretty sure you’ve never experienced it before,” Tobin spits.</p><p>“Okay, that’s enough,” Abby says as Christen glares at Tobin.</p><p>“We want you to know that we pitched the secret romance precisely because of those two things,” Glennon tells them. </p><p>Abby nods. “We keep the public and the tabloids guessing, confirming nothing.”</p><p>“My fans won’t fall for it,” Christen says. “They think I’m straight.”</p><p>“I think you’d be surprised, CP.” Abby says, before nodding to her assistant, who pulls up a new image on the projector. “This was posted on Twitter minutes ago.”</p><p>It’s two separate photos of Tobin and Christen with the same fan.</p><p>“I know this was just coincidence,” Abby continues, “but look at the comments.”</p><p>Tobin reads them randomly.</p><p>
  <em> ‘OMG. First the party vid. Then the party pic. Now this! #preath confirmed—’ What the hell is a preath? </em>
</p><p>
  <em> ‘Tobsten is re—’ Oh, it’s our names—Jeez. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> ‘…went to the same party then bought coffee “separately” from the same shop the next morning? These bitches did the nasty—’ Ugh, no. You nasty. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> ‘OHmygOd Christen Press is really gay for Tobin Heath??!! Ded—’ Seriously? </em>
</p><p>
  <em> ‘@christenpress, please please have Tobin’s babies—’ Good Lord! </em>
</p><p><em> ‘Is their name wifi? Because I see a connection—’ </em>Tobin laughs so hard that all eyes turn to her. “What? It’s funny.”</p><p>“This isn’t funny!” Christen yells at her.</p><p>“I meant a tweet! One comment!” Tobin yells back. “Not <em> this </em> situation!”</p><p>Christen turns to Abby and Glennon, almost pleading, “Do you really expect me to act like I’m into this—this—”</p><p>“Hotness?” Tobin gestures at her body.</p><p>“—this boor?!”</p><p>“CP—” </p><p>“Oh, I’m the boor—”</p><p>“Tobin—”</p><p>“—aren’t you an actor?!”</p><p>“Enough,” Glennon calmly cuts in.</p><p>And the room falls silent.</p><p>Then Glennon sighs… “My loves…” and offers a hand to both Tobin and Christen, who hesitate before taking it. “I know this seems tough… especially with how you feel about each other… but we wouldn’t push for something we knew would be bad for you—you know we wouldn’t… </p><p>“Tobin, dear, the first single from your album will come out in three months… your album in four… and we want it to chart higher than the first… </p><p>“Christen, sweetie, we can’t wait to see you in your first lead role in January… there are already murmurs from insiders about your superb performance… and we want to keep the buzz going… </p><p>“We all want and need you both to have a bigger audience. We know you don’t care about superstardom, but you’re on the brink of it… and <em> what you do want </em> is to be able to keep doing what you love… This will help… so think about it…” </p><p>More silence.</p><p>Then Abby pipes up, “We’ve got a day to decide… But we’ve already drawn the contract… and we’ll send you and your lawyers copies—”</p><p>“We can’t say no?” Christen asks.</p><p>Abby and Glennon share a look. And Becky sighs, “I’m guessing if you say no, the studio will just find some other guy to pair you with a few months down the line… unless…”</p><p>“Unless what?” </p><p>“You fall in love for real…”</p><p>Glennon confirms with a nod. And Christen can only cover her face with her hands and groan… </p><p>
  <em> I don’t feel sorry for her. I don’t feel sorry—Nope. Not at all. </em>
</p><p>“Tobs?” Lauren asks.</p><p>And Tobin sighs, staring right at Christen. “We’ve got a day, right?”</p><p>Christen slowly uncovers her face and stares right back.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p></p><div class="center">
  <p><i>Nobody</i><br/>Keith Sweat, feat. Athena Cage </p>
</div><i></i><br/>To RileySavage7, if you see this, I hope you'll believe me when I say I’m not trying to copy your fic. I swear it's just coincidence that we thought of similar plot lines. I had finished my outline and was in the middle of writing this first chapter when you had posted yours. Just to be sure, to avoid copying ideas even unintentionally, I'm sorry to say I won't read your fic, but I wish you all the best with it.<p>Thanks to the usual suspects, lucianafromnaples and mjacton and to new usual suspects, memoized, JCAL, and MarRed2020, for their support and patience (and contributing a pickup line and a tweet) since I started writing in November.</p><p>This is also for T&amp;C-being-mean-to-each-other-prompt anon, who also inspired this story.</p><p>For slept-on-artists anon, I'm sorry to say I'll probably end up not using any of your song recs because I'm stubborn like that lol but jsyk, I love dvsn. ;)</p><p>This chapter is a birthday gift to memoized.</p><p>Hope you enjoyed reading this as much as I enjoyed imagining it. Thanks for clicking and reading.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. While You Were Simpin'</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I didn't spell Tobin's assistant's name in chapter 1 correctly. It should be Jackie Groenen. Thanks to iam_kml for the spellcheck ;)</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p> </p><p> </p><p>
  <em> What did I get myself into?  </em>
</p><p>Christen sighs as she sits brooding in her balcony, with only a glass of champagne for company.</p><p>The sound of waves crashing on the shore, not too far down from her house, should’ve been enough to calm her nerves at the end of her day. But not tonight. No. At this hour, when she would’ve already started her nighttime routine, she’s agonizing over her predicament instead.</p><p><em> ‘We knew this was bound to happen sooner or later.’ </em> She hears Becky’s voice in her mind as she recalls their conversation right after the DW meeting. </p><p>
  <em> ‘But does it have to be with Tobin Heath?’ she asked. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> ‘You could do worse than her, Chris.’ </em>
</p><p>
  <em> ‘She is the worst, Becky.’  </em>
</p><p><em> She is… I can’t stand her, </em> she sighs again, before taking another sip and remembering her earlier admission. <em> ‘I can’t stand the thought of being just another notch in her bedpost.’ </em></p><p>
  <em> ‘If you agree to this, it’ll look like you’re the one who managed to tie her down.’ </em>
</p><p>
  <em> ‘That’s not comforting at all.’  </em>
</p><p><em> It’s not… It feels worse, </em>she shakes her head and takes a bigger gulp as Becky’s other point comes to mind.</p><p>
  <em> ‘Would you rather get cozy with a major asshole?’ </em>
</p><p>
  <em> ‘She is a major asshole.’ </em>
</p><p>
  <em> ‘I mean the worst kind of man—entitled, racist, misogynist, gets arrested for a DUI or worse, domestic violence or sexual assault—Tobin is an angel compared to that. And I’d rather you pretend with her than put up with a co-star the studio chooses for you, who turns out to be a monster.’ </em>
</p><p>Another gulp turns into two, then three, and she ends up finishing her drink in one go.</p><p>
  <em> ‘They’re not asking you to pretend you’re gay or bi, Chris. They’re asking you to pretend you like Tobin enough to hang out with her, get photographed while you’re at it, and give people free rein to speculate.’ </em>
</p><p>
  <em> ‘Some fans already think I slept with her.’ </em>
</p><p>
  <em> ‘You’ve been through worse rumors.’ </em>
</p><p><em> Of all the women there, why did she have to sing to me—that insufferable— </em>“Ugh!”</p><p>She gets up from her cushy outdoor sofa, crosses the threshold to her bedroom, slides the glass door closed, and locks it (twice, just to be sure).</p><p>The book she attempted to read to take her mind off things still lies open on her bed. And she ignores it again to bring her wine glass down to her kitchen.</p><p>She lives in a dreamy, three-storey beachfront property in Manhattan Beach—a graduation gift from her dad when she finished her MFA from the American Conservatory Theater last year—with sunlight seemingly seeping through every inch of it during the day, with its floor-to-ceiling glass windows and glass doors—all modern and sleek—beautiful, but cold and uninviting.</p><p>And as she trudges down the stairs, her mind flashes back to her best friends’ antics in their video call a few hours ago—</p><p>
  <em> ‘Bish, my advice will make total fucking sense!’ Ashlyn shrieked. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Megan shrieked back, ‘Quit yappin’ and let’s hear it, bish!” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> ‘Give me a minute.’ </em>
</p><p>
  <em> They all laughed. </em>
</p><p>—and it makes her smile a little.</p><p>Her best friends reacted to the news with various levels of shock (or lack thereof)—from Sue, who simply smirked, to Ali, who asked, <em> ‘For real?’ </em> to Megan, who exclaimed, <em> ‘Shut. Up!’ </em> and to Ashlyn, who laughed out loud, slapping her thigh, <em> ‘Oh, my god! This is fucking hilarious!’ </em></p><p>
  <em> And as Ashlyn thought of what advice to give, Megan mockingly sang the Jeopardy theme song, ‘Tanananan, tananan, tanananan-tan—’ </em>
</p><p>
  <em> ‘Quit it, bish!’ It got Ashlyn going. ‘You have got to do this, Pressy! This is the perfect way to give people something to talk about without fucking giving away anything. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> ‘Your usual media coverage—magazine covers, interviews—won’t fuckin’ cut it and you know it—not for your first lead role. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> ‘And yeah, you’ll be talked about on gossip sites and fan boards a lot more and you’ll invite the craziness of the paps but you know what? You will still be in control. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> ‘You’ll fuel rumors but won’t be revealing anything about your goddamn life—not the truth anyway. And things stay as—um… ambiguous as they have been but with speculation turned up.’ </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Wow.’ Megan whistled. ‘Big words.’ </em>
</p><p>
  <em> ‘Honey, don’t strain your one brain cell too much,’ Ali teased. (Everyone else giggled.) </em>
</p><p>
  <em> ‘My own wifey!’ </em>
</p><p>
  <em> ‘You haven’t put a ring on it, dumdum.’ </em>
</p><p>Christen chuckles as she goes straight to the kitchen sink and rinses her glass before opening her dishwasher and placing the glass in it—with several other glasses, a few utensils, and even fewer plates—an accumulation of a few days’ worth of dirty dishes.</p><p>She looks around before turning her dishwasher on. And her kitchen looks as immaculate as it always does because she rarely cooks. (It’s not easy to cook for just one.)</p><p>
  <em> ‘Let me play devil’s advocate here and say don’t do it, Pressy,’ Megan said. “There are other alternatives.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Ashlyn whined, ‘Bish, you know I’m right! You just don’t wanna admit it.’ </em>
</p><p>Christen leaves a night light on in the kitchen and turns all the other lights off, after checking (and double-checking) her locks, before going back upstairs.</p><p>
  <em> ‘Becky’s right,’ Sue chimed in. ‘The studio will just find someone else to pair her with in a few months if she says no now.’ </em>
</p><p>
  <em> ‘She just needs an increased social media presence,’ Megan suggested. ‘We can get her a social media manager as good as ours.’ </em>
</p><p>
  <em> ‘Or—or,’ Ali piped up, ‘she can finally let us set her up on very public dates with Hollywood’s most eligible bachelors!’ </em>
</p><p>
  <em> ‘Ooh, that’ll be fun!’ Ashlyn giggled.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> ‘But you don’t want to do either of those, do you?’ Megan asked. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Before Christen could answer, Sue cut in, ‘You know what else you could do?’ </em>
</p><p>
  <em> ‘What?’ </em>
</p><p>
  <em> ‘Tobin Heath.’ </em>
</p><p>
  <em> In an instant, her best friends cackled, her face felt hot, and Sue teased her a bit more by adding, ‘She’s fucking hot, Chris. You gotta try that.’ </em>
</p><p>She stops midway to her bedroom just to groan. <em> Noooo! Don’t want that… </em>It’s a part of their conversation she just wants to forget. But her brain won’t let her.</p><p>
  <em> ‘Or,’ Ali grinned as she waited for their laughter to die down, ‘you could let her do you.’ </em>
</p><p>
  <em> And more guffaws erupted in the call. </em>
</p><p>She drags herself to the bathroom, heaving an annoyed sigh and shaking her head.</p><p>
  <em> ‘Wait a fucking minute,’ Ashlyn suddenly cried out. ‘You still haven’t told us what happened in the bathroom, bish!’ </em>
</p><p>
  <em> ‘Yeah! Spill it, Pressy!’ </em>
</p><p>
  <em> ‘Spill, spill, spill, spill,’ they raucously chanted. </em>
</p><p>She starts washing her face as if it’ll help remove the restlessness she is feeling.</p><p>She tries hard to think about her other conversations with her lawyer <em> (‘Best to go over this by item, like, hand-holding, yea or nay?’), </em> her lawyer-best friend Fran, who couldn’t stop laughing <em> (‘I can’t believe you got into a PR romance with Tobin Heath—of all people!’), </em> her lawyer-older sister Tyler <em> (‘You seriously called Franny before you called me?!’), </em> and her younger sister Channing <em> (‘Repeat after me… Today, I will have patience with everything that remains unresolved in my heart…’). </em></p><p>But her mind always goes back to her best friends’ words like a fucking mantra, <em> ‘She’s fucking hot, Chris. You gotta try that… Yeah, do Tobin Heath… Or let her do you… She’s fucking hot, Chris—’ She’s not—She’s infuriating—Stupid abs—Ugh! </em></p><p>She hopes Tobin and her obnoxious toned arms are fussing over this as much she is.</p><p>*</p><p><em> “Did you just play video games all day?” </em>Lauren sounds disappointed even through the phone speaker.</p><p>Tobin chuckles and says, “Yep,” then continues to play with Jackie on their Switch.</p><p>
  <em> “Did you even think about it?” </em>
</p><p>“Nope.”</p><p>Lauren sighs.<em> “What am I gonna tell Glennon and Abby?” </em></p><p>“I’ll do it.”</p><p>Jackie snorts.</p><p>
  <em> “Are you serious?” </em>
</p><p>“It’s a great way to annoy Christen Press.”</p><p>“And a great way to keep seeing Christen Press,” Jackie grins.</p><p>“Shut up, Jacks.”</p><p>
  <em> “Are you sure you wanna do this, Tobs?” </em>
</p><p>“I’ve got nothing more to lose… As long as they won’t ask us to go topless on a yacht for the paps or make a sex tape or something, I’m good.”</p><p>*</p><p>“She—what?!” Christen sits bolt upright in her bed and slides her MacBook off her lap to give Becky, who’s on the phone with her, her full attention.</p><p><em> “She’s signing on but wants to add a clause prohibiting nudity and filming a sex tape,” </em>Becky repeats.</p><p>“I swear she’s doing this on purpose!”</p><p>
  <em> “Doing what on purpose?” </em>
</p><p>“Annoying me. Timing her decision late at night so I won’t be able to sleep,” Christen huffs. “She’s challenging me, Becky.”</p><p><em> “Well, you still have until noon tomorrow to decide,” </em>Becky reminds her.</p><p>Christen takes a really deep breath and then—“I’ll do it.”</p><p>
  <em> “Just because Tobin is willing to do it?” </em>
</p><p>“I won’t let her have anything over me.”</p><p>
  <em> “Chris.”  </em>
</p><p>“If I say no now that she’s saying yes, I’ll definitely look like the bad guy to the studio—”</p><p>
  <em> “That’s true.” </em>
</p><p>“—which is what <em> she </em> wants.”</p><p>
  <em> “Okay, I’ll tell DW you’ll sign.” </em>
</p><p>“And also add a new clause.”</p><p>
  <em> “What did you have in mind?” </em>
</p><p>Christen glances at the open tabs on her browser—of gossip rag stories—on Tobin Heath.</p><p><em> Did Tobin Heath Just Come Out? <br/>
</em> <em> New Song Lyrics Have Fans Buzzing </em></p><p><em> Is Tobin Heath Off The Market? R&amp;B <br/>
</em> <em> Hitmaker Reportedly Dating Latin Pop <br/>
</em> <em> Sensation Shirley Cruz </em></p><p><em> Things Heath Up Between Tobin Heath <br/>
</em> <em> and Shirley Cruz in Miami </em></p><p><em> Model Dishes on Alleged Affair with <br/>
</em> <em> Tobin Heath </em></p><p><em> Cruz Dumps Heath Days After Cheating <br/>
</em> <em> Rumors Surfaced </em></p><p><em> Heath’s Walk of Shame Out of Blonde <br/>
</em> <em> Lover’s House Captured on Video </em></p><p><em> Alex Morgan, Tobin Heath Get Cozy <br/>
</em> <em> At Oscars After-Party </em></p><p><em> Is Alex Morgan Hooking Up with <br/>
</em> <em> Tobin Heath, Cheating on Fiancé? </em></p><p><em> Tobin Heath Caught Flirting <br/>
</em> <em> with Hot French Model </em></p><p><em> Tobin Heath Spotted with Rumored <br/>
</em> <em> Blonde Ex and Her New Beau, <br/>
</em> <em> Brunching in Santa Monica </em></p><p><em> Tobin Heath and Christen Press: <br/>
</em> <em> Hollywood’s Newest Gal Pals </em></p><p>
  <em> Is Tobin Heath’s Assistant A Sex Slave? </em>
</p><p>Christen smirks, “I may have found a way out of this, Becky.”</p><p>*</p><p>“Whu-?” Tobin grunts at her phone, in bed, the next morning.</p><p><em> “Do you want the bad news first or the worse news?” </em>Lauren asks on the other line.</p><p>“Coffee.”</p><p>Lauren laughs. <em> “Christen stipulated that the contract would be null and void if cheating rumors start.” </em></p><p>“What the f— She thinks she can get away that easily?!”</p><p>
  <em> “You more awake now?” </em>
</p><p>“What’s the worse news?”</p><p>
  <em> “The label is adding a clause on kissing when required.” </em>
</p><p>“Ohoho, I bet that got her panties in a bunch. Tell them I instantly said yes.”</p><p>*</p><p>“Uuugghh!!!” Christen screams into the void. “I hope you step on a thousand legos!!!”</p><p>*</p><p>They sign their PR contract late that evening. Separately. With a lot of side comments. </p><p>*</p><p>“Tobs?!”</p><p>
  <em> Yeah? </em>
</p><p>“Tobin Powell Heath!!!”</p><p>
  <em> I’m sleeping…  </em>
</p><p>It’s mid-afternoon two days later and Tobin thought she’d just lie down for a bit after her workout but ended up full-on-napping instead.</p><p>“Toby!!!” Jackie’s voice is suddenly clearer. “Get your butt down here!!!”</p><p>Tobin opens her eyes, bolts out of bed, zooms out of her room, scrambles down the stairs, then stops abruptly at the bottom, eyes widening at the woman next to Jackie in the living room, with eyes just as wide and mouth hanging open in surprise.</p><p>But they quickly snap out of it.</p><p>
  <em> Fuck. </em>
</p><p>“You forgot, didn’t you?” Christen accuses. Jackie gasps. And Tobin is suddenly all too aware that she’s just in her Calvin Klein boxers and sports bra.</p><p>“You’re going out for the first time today?” Jackie asks.</p><p>“Unfortunately,” Christen answers. “I wouldn’t be caught dead coming here if we weren’t.”</p><p>Tobin rolls her eyes and puts her hands on her hips.</p><p>“Oh, my god,” Jackie exhales. “So the grocery shopping on her calendar—that’s what that’s for?”</p><p>“Huh?” Christen turns to Jackie.</p><p>“Yeah,” Tobin nods. “Sorry, I forgot to tell you.”</p><p>“Aw, man,” Jackie pouts. “I made a list.”</p><p>Christen clears her throat, “Why don’t you come with?”</p><p>“Leave her out of this,” Tobin snarls.</p><p>“She made a list,” Christen points out.</p><p>Jackie asks, “Can you just buy my stuff for me?” </p><p>Tobin says, “No,” while Christen says, “Yes.”</p><p>“You just want to contradict me.”</p><p>“As if you don’t.”</p><p>“Come on, Tobs,” Jackie begs.</p><p>“No,” Tobin says. “Go buy them yourself.” </p><p>“Please, please, please,” Jackie puts on puppy eyes.</p><p>“No.”</p><p>“Oh, for goodness sake,” Christen snaps. “Give me the list, Jackie, and I’ll see what I can do—”</p><p>“You remembered my name,” Jackie whispers in awe.</p><p>“—and put some clothes on, Heath! Jeez.”</p><p>“Oh, you’re loving this, aren’t you?” Tobin gestures at her body and smirks. “Jacks, why don’t you give Press a drink while I get ready. She looks thirsty.” Then she smugly turns to head up the stairs but makes the mistake of glancing at Jackie and Christen, just in time to see Christen’s body as Christen turns to talk to Jackie and—Tobin stumbles, instinctively putting her hands out to catch herself, then hastily getting up and checking if she was caught.</p><p>She was.</p><p>“I know my butt looks great,” Christen says evenly. “But you’re not welcome to look.”</p><p>“Psshh, I’ve seen better,” Tobin retorts before rushing up the stairs.</p><p>*</p><p><em> I’ve seen better?! Ugh… so lame. </em>Tobin groans internally when her words come back to haunt her as she drives her car to the (assigned) grocery store, with Christen in the passenger seat.</p><p>They’ve been on the road for a few minutes but haven’t said a word to each other since Tobin came back downstairs with wet hair, a black tee and yellow boxer shorts on, and Christen asked if she’s going out barefoot. Tobin responded by looking at Christen from head to toe, lingering on Christen’s sleeveless blouse and tight black jeans, before smirking at Christen’s red Valentino slides, getting the black version from her shoe rack, and slipping them on right in front of Christen with a grin.</p><p><em> ‘Matchy-matchy.’ </em> she remembers saying. But she’s cringing about it now. <em> Oh, God. That was even lamer. </em></p><p>At least she’s sure it annoyed Christen (if Christen’s stink-eyes, pointed silence, and slamming the passenger door really hard are anything to go by). But how can she annoy Christen even more without being lame?</p><p>Sing along with the radio? <em> Nah, that’ll be pleasant. </em></p><p>Try and sing offkey? <em> That takes practi— </em></p><p><em> Ohoho. </em> “So what have you been up to, Tobin?” She starts a conversation with herself. “Funny you should ask that, Christen.” She steals a glance and Christen resolutely stares forward. “I’ve been taking a break after completing my album but I’m getting ready to write songs again. Any ideas? How about a song about that girl who caught your eye, Tobin? Oh, you mean the girl at the party a few days ago? Yes, that girl. Oh-em-gee, you’re so right, Christen. She was <em> so— </em> ” Tobin steals another glance and Christen holds her breath— <em> “gorgeous… </em></p><p>“The moment our eyes locked, I knew I was done for. It was like… she stared straight into my soul with those beautiful, bright eyes, the color of the sea nearest to the shore and she knew who I was inside and out… And she pulled me in like a breaking wave moves a grain of sand into deeper water—I was powerless to resist… </p><p>“I could wax poetic about her light bronze skin, her luscious hair, her lithe and graceful body. Or I could effuse about how I felt when I offered my hand and we finally touched… It was electric. </p><p>“I wanted to take her home right then and there. But I settled for lovingly stroking her back, and scratching her ear as she licked my face, and gushing, ‘Who’s a good doggie?!’”</p><p>Christen turns away and covers her mouth—</p><p>“‘Who is such a good girl?’”</p><p>—and she shudders from trying to stop herself from laughing.</p><p>Tobin bites her lip to do the same, takes a deep breath, then soldiers on, “I swear, animal shelter parties are the best! The. Best. I should totally write a song about it. Yeah! Thanks, Christen. We’ve got a hit on our hands for sure. Easily number one on iTunes—”</p><p>“Oh, my god. Please shut up.”</p><p>And Tobin laughs out loud.</p><p>*</p><p>“You can’t be serious.”</p><p>“Do I look like I’m joking?”</p><p>They’ve entered the grocery store without incident but have been arguing over every little thing.</p><p>“It’s just toilet paper, Christen! What difference does it make?”</p><p>
  <em> “What difference—?” </em>
</p><p>Loud thumps disrupt their current argument. And they both turn to see a pale and gangly, younger woman, standing a few feet away, staring at them in stunned silence.</p><p>“Hey…” Tobin greets her hesitantly.</p><p>“Can… we help you?” Christen asks.</p><p>The younger woman covers her mouth with her hand and starts to cry. And the two stars share a quick look before rushing towards her, avoiding two bottles of bleach, which she must’ve dropped, to offer words of comfort.</p><p>“Hey… it’s okay…” Tobin coos.</p><p>“Ohmygod, I’m sorry, I’m such a loser,” she says with a muffled voice.</p><p>“You have nothing to be sorry for. And you're not a loser,” Christen tells her sweetly. “What’s your name?”</p><p>“Sam—Sammy,” she answers. “I’m sorry, I just… I love you both so much.”</p><p>Tobin chuckles goodnaturedly. “Thanks, Sammy. We love you, too.”</p><p>Sammy’s eyes widen for a split second, then she sobs harder.</p><p>“Oh, God, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to—” Tobin turns to Christen in alarm as Sammy starts hyperventilating.</p><p>“Sammy, do breathing exercises help?” Christen asks.</p><p>Sammy nods.</p><p>“Okay, I need you to bring awareness to your body,” Christen calmly says. “Feel your feet planted firmly on the floor… tap your feet if you have to.”</p><p>Sammy does so.</p><p>“Now, pay attention to your breathing and follow me, okay?”</p><p>Sammy nods again.</p><p>“Inhale… hold your breath… exhale… one more time, inhale…” </p><p>Tobin can’t help but follow along as Christen tries to regulate Sammy’s breathing.</p><p>“Inhale…”</p><p>She also can’t help but offer her hand for Sammy to hold and drift closer to Christen.</p><p>“Hold your breath…” </p><p>“You’re doing great, Sammy,” she whispers before mindlessly placing her hand on the small of Christen’s back.</p><p>“E-Exhale…” </p><p>She notices a small crowd gathering at the end of the aisle, watching them, the same time Sammy does.</p><p>“Don’t pay attention to them, Sammy,” she urges. “Just focus on Christen.”</p><p>“Inhale…” </p><p>A few people bring their phones out, pointing at the trio.</p><p><em> Great… Just great. </em>She protectively moves closer to Christen.</p><p>“H-Hold your breath…” </p><p>And then— “Sam—” another young woman comes running towards Sammy— “oh, my god.” Then a look of recognition crosses her face as she turns to Tobin and Christen. “Oh, my god!”</p><p>Sammy releases Tobin’s hand and reaches for the newcomer’s hand but continues to follow Christen’s instructions.</p><p>“That’s it… Keep going, Sammy,” Tobin encourages as she steps aside to give the girls more space, partially pressing her front against Christen’s back and moving her hand to Christen’s shoulder.</p><p>“H-Hold y-your breath… Exhale…”</p><p>She gives Christen’s shoulder a gentle squeeze.</p><p>“Then, s-start breathing naturally,” Christen smiles softly. “Good job, Sammy.”</p><p>“Thank you so much.”</p><p>“Feel better?” Tobin asks.</p><p>Sammy nods, “Just super embarrassed.”</p><p>“I’ll never let you live this down,” the other girl deadpans.</p><p>Sammy rolls her eyes and says, “I know,” before turning to Tobin and Christen. “My older sister, Kristie,” she introduces.</p><p>And the stars nod and smile just as a store employee approaches them and offers assistance. (It’s a store frequented by celebrities.) </p><p>Christen immediately asks for a private room where Sammy could sit and the employee promptly tells them to follow him to the break room.</p><p>Then Christen turns to Tobin, “I want to stay with Sammy a bit longer, make sure she’s okay.”</p><p>Tobin nods, “What can I do?”</p><p>“Follow along with our shopping cart?”</p><p>“Okay, babe.”</p><p>
  <em> Shit.  </em>
</p><p>Their eyes locked for a split second. And there’s panic there. And accusation. And indecision. Until—</p><p>“Thanks, hon,” Christen replies.</p><p>And Tobin nods again, then turns around to get their cart.</p><p>
  <em> Shit, shit, shit. Fuck, fuck, fuck. </em>
</p><p>*</p><p>Christen rounds on Tobin the moment they close their car doors. “Babe?! Really?!</p><p>“As if ‘hon’ is any better.”</p><p>“You started it!!”</p><p>“You made it worse!!”</p><p>“We’re supposed to be just friends!”</p><p>“For all they know, I call all my friends ‘babe!’ You decided to call me ‘hon’ and that isn’t ‘just friends!’”</p><p>“You put me on the spot! Again! It’s hard enough to pretend to like you, let alone be your girlfriend!”</p><p>“Yeah, I didn't think you could act that well!”</p><p>Christen chokes back a gasp, then looks away, but not before Tobin notices tears forming in her eyes.</p><p><em> Shit, shit. Fuck, fuck. </em>Tobin gulps. “I’m sorry, Press. I—”</p><p>“Just drive, Heath,” Christen orders.</p><p>And she doesn’t speak to Tobin again.</p><p>*</p><p>
  <em> ‘Great job.’ </em>
</p><p>
  <em> ‘That went way better than we planned.’ </em>
</p><p>
  <em> ‘Thanks for your efforts today.’  </em>
</p><p><em> ‘Welp, there’s no turning back now,’ </em>are just some of the messages Christen receives from those in the know when entertainment news airs that night.</p><p>Ashlyn even sends her a YouTube video, with a cheeky,<em> ‘You’re doing amazing, sweetie!”  </em></p><p>And Christen can’t stop watching.</p><p>
  <em> “Christen Press and Tobin Heath continue to be a hot topic this week when they went viral for a second time in four days—not for a steamy, impromptu musical performance this time—” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> They show a clip of Tobin singing, “I wanna know… who can love you like me, baby!” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “—but for their heart of gold. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “The hot, new rumored couple went grocery shopping today and were caught on video helping another shopper overcome, what appeared to be, a panic attack. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Twitter user Footy-Fut-Foot captured the moment and tweeted, ‘Christen Press coming through with the breathing exercises while Tobin Heath holds her like a proud gf. These two are literally the best! Your faves could never…’ </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “We’re pretty sure the young woman they helped agrees.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Oh, my gosh, it was so surreal,” Sammy says in the interview. “I was, like, a mess. But they were both so nice and so sweet.’ </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “That’s all my sister’s gotta say, thank you,” Kristie cuts in. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “A source told us that Tobin promised to give the sisters a copy of her second album when it comes out in September and Christen offered to help them find a job since she can’t give out free tickets to her new movie yet. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Eyewitnesses also said that the pair seemed to have bought ingredients for a party-sized potato salad, plus a range of toiletries. And, while there was no major PDA, the two stars looked very much in love, acting like an old married couple and calling each other pet names. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Their relationship status has yet to be confirmed by their reps.” </em>
</p><p>And Christen continues ugh-ing and sulking and pouting and frowning for the rest of the night. </p><p>But she refuses to cry.</p><p>*</p><p>
  <em> “Christen Annemarie Press!” </em>
</p><p>Christen is still moping in bed when she answers her phone the next morning. “Daddy!”</p><p>
  <em> “When exactly did you plan to tell your old man that you’re dating Tobin Heath?” </em>
</p><p>“Never?”</p><p>
  <em> “I wanna meet her.” </em>
</p><p>“Dad,” Christen covers her eyes with her free hand, “it’s just for PR.”</p><p>
  <em> “I don’t care.” </em>
</p><p>“We’re just… fake-dating.”</p><p>
  <em> “Then I wanna fake-meet her. Bring her to my fake-barbecue on Sunday. Love you!” </em>
</p><p>He ends the call, leaving Christen with a desperate urge to throw her phone against the wall.</p><p>*</p><p>Thank goodness, she doesn’t throw her phone against the wall.</p><p>She smiles genuinely for the first time today when she sees Samantha J. is calling.</p><p>She gets up from her seat in a long corridor, with twenty other women seated in chairs lined up against the wall and walks far enough away before answering, “Hey girl!”</p><p>
  <em> “Where you at?” </em>
</p><p>“Auditions.”</p><p>
  <em> “How’s it going?” </em>
</p><p>“The usual. A lot of waiting.”</p><p>
  <em> “Are the rumors true?” </em>
</p><p>Christen sighs, “Do you want to sign an NDA?”</p><p>
  <em> “Did Abby ask the gayng to sign?” </em>
</p><p>“She did—I didn’t even have to tell her—She just sent them right through.”</p><p>
  <em> “Damn. Okay. Forget I asked anything.” </em>
</p><p>They both chuckle.</p><p>“How’re you?”</p><p>
  <em> “I’m so glad you asked. You won’t believe what I’m scheduled for on Thursday.” </em>
</p><p>“What?”</p><p>*</p><p>Tobin can’t believe this is her life sometimes… coming to work in a studio where legendary albums were made… collaborating with a bunch of geniuses… recording songs she writes for other artists (which go on to become hits) and, more recently, for herself… </p><p>She’s eternally grateful.</p><p>She’s also grateful she was able to buy a nice townhouse in West Hollywood just a 10-minute walk away from the studio. So even if she’s running late, like she usually is, she can still get there in good time. </p><p>Like today.</p><p>“Hey, sorry, I got caught up with—”</p><p>“Your new video game,” a tall blonde finishes for her as she enters the production suite’s control room in t-shirt and shorts. “Jackie told me.”</p><p>Jackie sniggers behind Tobin, then brings out her laptop.</p><p>Tobin rolls her eyes and says, “Not true,” then walks over to her foxy guest, who gets up from the couch, and greets her with, “Hey, I’m Tobin. I’m really sorry for being late and for these lying jerks.”</p><p>The foxy guest chuckles and offers her hand, “I didn’t mind waiting. It’s so nice to finally meet you, Tobin. I’m Dream Johnson.”</p><p>Tobin shakes Dream’s hand and offers her most charming grin, “It’s so nice to meet you, too. I’ve been looking forward to this.”</p><p>“Me, too,” Dream smiles back.</p><p>“I hope Harry introduced herself?” Tobin points her thumb at the blonde.</p><p>“Of course, I did, Harry!” Harry interjects. “I told her I’m your blonde ex-lover.”</p><p>“She’s not,” Tobin tells Dream.</p><p>“I’m not,” Harry admits. “I’m actually a ginger.”</p><p>Dream laughs and says, “Allie’s been great company.”</p><p>“Wow, I did not expect those things to go together,” Tobin says, “like, ever.”</p><p>“Oh, boohoo.” Harry—whose real nickname is Allie—rolls her eyes.</p><p>“Why are you my engineer again?”</p><p>“Because I’m awesome.”</p><p>Jackie giggles and gives Allie a high five.</p><p>“The other jerk is Jackie.” Tobin points at Jackie.</p><p>Jackie sticks her tongue out at Tobin but smiles and shakes hands with Dream, who smiles back as they both say, “Nice to meet you.”</p><p>Then Tobin motions for the couch and sits with Dream (while Allie and Jackie sit together in another corner, to gossip, probably), then offers, “Gum?”</p><p>“Oh, yes, please. Thanks!”</p><p>And they make themselves more comfortable, with Tobin folding a leg on the couch and Dream crossing one leg over the other, elbow resting on the back of the couch, facing each other as they pop gum into their mouths.</p><p>Then Tobin asks, “So how does it feel to be back after a four-year hiatus?”</p><p>“Oh, boy, it’s a struggle, right?” Dream answers, which makes them both laugh. “Let’s be clear right now, it’s a struggle. But I’m all fired up. I might already have two songs, which is great. And clearly, you did your homework.”</p><p>Tobin laughs, “I like to know who I’m writing for and writing with, you know?”</p><p>“For sure.”</p><p>“I hope you don’t mind chatting for a while, instead of just, I don’t know, getting right to it.”</p><p>“Of course,” Dream smirks. “Foreplay.”</p><p>Tobin laughs a little louder.</p><p>“I prefer it, to be honest,” Dream admits. </p><p>Tobin smirks back, “Foreplay?”</p><p>“Who doesn’t?” Dream playfully replies.</p><p>“I mean, quickies are nice to have every now and then—keeps things exciting.”</p><p>“True, true,” Dream agrees and they both giggle before she adds with a smile, “You <em> know </em> I meant chatting. But I totally expected this topic today.”</p><p>“What?”</p><p>“Sex.”</p><p>Tobin laughs more heartily before asking, “Is that what you’re in the mood for? Songs about sex?”</p><p>Dream smirks again with a raised eyebrow, “Can you blame me?”</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Tak…  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Tak, tak…   </em>
</p><p>“How does this feel?</p><p>
  <em> Tak…  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Tak, tak…   </em>
</p><p>“Faster, Tobin.”</p><p>
  <em> Tak, tak…   </em>
</p><p><em> Tak, </em> “Like this?” <em> Tak-tak… Tak… Tak-tak…  </em></p><p>“Yeah… that’s it…”<em> Tak… Tak-tak… </em>“Just like that.”</p><p><em> Tak… Tak-tak… Tak… </em>“Feels right?”</p><p><em> Tak, </em> “So right…” <em> Tak-tak… </em></p><p>And their lips slowly curve into smiles as their eyes meet.</p><p> </p><p>They sit in front of the monitor for a good long while, just bobbing their heads to the beat and vibin’ to the thumping bass that Tobin adds to the claps and the hi-hats. </p><p>Then Dream starts to sing, “Oooooooooooohhh, hoo-ooh-hoo-uh-ooh…” And it makes them smile at each other again… </p><p>“Nice…” Tobin breathes out. “What’s on your mind right now?”</p><p>Dream smirks again and says, “One night stands.”</p><p>And Tobin laughs for the nth time before asking, “What about them?”</p><p>“I had a momentary panic before my first studio session a few days ago.”</p><p>“Because it’s been so long?”</p><p>“Yeah, like I suddenly doubted if I should push through with it… I knew at that point it was too late to back out… I wanted it… I put myself in that position… but there was this fleeting feeling of— ‘What am I doing?’ Then I got on with it.” Dream confesses. “Ever had that feeling?”</p><p><em> With Christen— </em>Tobin shakes her head and chuckles, “I might have.”</p><p>“It’s like that moment in a one night stand—”</p><p>“When you’re about to take your clothes off.”</p><p>“Exactly. That split second when you ask yourself if you really want to do it.” </p><p>“And your mind dithers—”</p><p>“But your body screams yes…” </p><p> </p><p>“Yes… That. Is. It.”</p><p>Five hours later, they finally wrap, giving each other a high-five, lacing their fingers together, and shaking their raised hands in triumph, with four tracks and empty take-out boxes to show for it.</p><p>“We did it, I can’t believe it,” Dream puffs out a breath.</p><p>“Your whole album is gonna be fire,” Tobin grins.</p><p>“Thank you, Tobin.” Dream moves to give Tobin a hug, which Tobin reciprocates.</p><p>And when they part, Tobin tells her, “You know, even if you don’t end up using any of these songs, this session has been a blast.”</p><p>“I didn't want it to end,” Dream smiles.</p><p>“Same,” Tobin smiles back.</p><p>“Listen… do you wanna, maybe, go out for a drink?” Dream coyly asks.</p><p>“Right now?”</p><p>“Yeah… Just the two of us?”</p><p> </p><p>… </p><p>… </p><p>… </p><p>“And?” Christen asks.</p><p>She’s sitting comfortably on one end of her huge sectional sofa, with Dream on the other and their legs stretched as they wait for their nail polishes to dry, that Saturday.</p><p>“What did Tobin say?” she prods Dream impatiently with her foot.</p><p>Dream swats it away before answering, “She shot me down.”</p><p>“What?! Why?”</p><p>“She asked if I was asking her out on a date and I made the mistake of saying yes.”</p><p>“Oh, no.”</p><p>“Yeah,” Dream sighs, “I’m sorry our plan didn’t work.”</p><p>“Why does she keep ruining everything?”</p><p>“I swear I brought my A-game.”</p><p>“I don’t doubt that. I really hope she’ll slip and get photographed with someone else soon.”</p><p>“I don’t know… She told me she’d love to stay friends with me but would rather not date right now—Makes me wonder what would’ve happened if I propositioned her instead.”</p><p>“Samantha!”</p><p>“What?” Dream chuckles. “She makes me wanna switch teams.”</p><p>“Not you, too! What is it about her that makes all my friends drool, even the straight ones?!”</p><p>Dream laughs, “Have you <em> seen </em>her calves?!”</p><p><em> Yes— </em>“What about them?”</p><p>“They’re almost as big as her thighs—”</p><p>
  <em> Ugh, they are. </em>
</p><p>“—only more muscular and, I don’t know, yummier.”</p><p>“Yummier?”</p><p>“The thought of it, you know? Like she could get in any sexual position with those legs.”</p><p>“Oh, my god!”</p><p>Dream laughs again, “Oh, c’mon, be real with me. Can you honestly tell me it never occurred to you to have sex with her?”</p><p>Christen rolls her eyes, “I’ve never been interested in sleeping with another woman.”</p><p>“That is such a non-answer—Yes or no?”</p><p>“Yes, it never occurred to me.”</p><p>“Not even when she sang to you?”</p><p>“Not even when Ali and Sue kept bringing it up.”</p><p>“Fine—But speaking of sex,” Dream smirks as she grabs and clicks on her phone, “let me transfer this to you real quick so you can play it on your fancy speakers.”</p><p>Christen grabs her phone. “What is it?”</p><p>“The second version of the first song we wrote.”</p><p>“About sex.” Christen accepts the pop-up notice for <em> Demo 1.2. </em></p><p>“What else?” Dream giggles.</p><p>“Of course. Why am I surprised anymore?” Christen clicks a few more times.</p><p>“You know, Tobin’s really not as bad as you think,” Dream tells her as the track starts playing in the background.</p><p>“I’m sure she was perfectly nice to you. But she’s been awful to me.”</p><p>“I really can’t imagine her being like that at all.” Dream thinks out loud, “Too bad I can’t attend Cody’s barbecue tomorrow.”</p><p>“Thank you for your sacrifice.”</p><p>“I got your back.”</p><p>They both giggle.</p><p>“Seriously, though,” Christen says, “thanks for trying to get me out of my stupid contract.”</p><p>“Anytime,” Dream says, then waggles her brows and smirks. “Would’ve been a win for me too.” </p><p>“Don’t tell me you’re really gonna try and get with her.”</p><p>Dream exaggeratedly sighs, “If only I weren’t so straight.”</p><p>And they burst into laughter.</p><p>A second later, Dream’s voice comes through the speakers, singing, <em> “Ooooooooooooooooooohhh, ooh-hooo-hoo-oohhh…” </em></p><p>And it makes Christen smile… “I’m so happy that you’re back.”</p><p>“So am I…”</p><p>
  <em> “I won’t make you pull out… getting it all… tonight.” </em>
</p><p>“Really classy, Sam.”</p><p>Dream rolls her eyes and says, “Shut up,” then laughs… </p><p>
  <em> “I just wanna go down… in history how… you like.” </em>
</p><p>“What are these lyrics?!”</p><p>“Just shut up and listen, Christen,” she laughs again.</p><p>
  <em> “As the one who makes you comfortable…”  </em>
</p><p>“Yeah, yeah.”</p><p>
  <em> “‘Cause your lips, they got me… feeling very vulnerable.” </em>
</p><p>“Now, that’s a line.”</p><p>“Yeah, Tobin’s.” (Singing next.)</p><p>
  <em> “The way that you speak to me, freak with me, gives me a rise…” </em>
</p><p>“You’re kidding me.”</p><p>“Nuh-uh… she’s <em> that </em> good.”</p><p>
  <em> “And I think we’re…” </em>
</p><p>Suddenly—</p><p>
  <em> “Too… deep…”  </em>
</p><p>—Christen finds herself holding her breath.</p><p>
  <em> Ugh… stupid falsetto. </em>
</p><p>She breathes out brokenly and shakily. And then it happens again.</p><p>
  <em> “And I think we’re… </em>
</p><p>But this time it’s—</p><p>
  <em> “In…  </em>
</p><p>—worse—</p><p>
  <em> “Too… </em>
</p><p>—‘cause—</p><p>
  <em> “Deep, babe…”  </em>
</p><p>—Tobin is almost moaning her words… </p><p>“G-Great,” she clears her throat. “This track is great.” She straightens her back and takes a deep, calming breath but not understanding why. </p><p><em> “Don’t you, baby, pull out… We’re right where we’re supposed to be,” </em>Tobin huskily croons.</p><p><em> Is she—No, it can’t be, </em>she shakes her head then sincerely says, “I’m so proud of you, Sam.”</p><p>“Thanks, Chris,” Dream smiles.</p><p>And Christen gives her leg a squeeze before getting up from the couch, “Let me check on lunch.”</p><p>“Hey! Song isn’t done yet.”</p><p>“Like I won’t be 20 feet away,” Christen rolls her eyes as she heads for the kitchen. “I don’t want to burn my thank you dish… And there are speakers everywhere.”</p><p>
  <em> “And I just wanna be clear… we’re doin’ right… what we’re doin’ works…” </em>
</p><p>A couple more steps and she reaches her kitchen, opens a drawer, and brings out a spoon. </p><p>Then she walks over to a pot she left simmering on the stove, grabs a potholder, lifts the lid open, and suddenly—</p><p>
  <em> “—gives me a rise!” </em>
</p><p>—drops the fucking lid on the fucking counter because Tobin Fucking Heath hits a fucking high note—<em> Fuck! </em></p><p>“What happened?” Dream asks.</p><p>“Nothing,” Christen says. “It was… hot.”</p><p>“I know, right?”</p><p><em>Seriously, Christen?! You went with that word?! </em>“I meant the pot.”</p><p>“Oh. You okay?”</p><p><em> Probably not. </em>“Don’t worry about it—It was nothing.”</p><p>It feels like Tobin is mocking her when she moans her lines again.</p><p>
  <em> “I think we’re… in… too… deep, yeah—don’t wanna… pull out…” </em>
</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p></p><div class="center">
  <p><i>Too Deep</i><br/>dvsn</p>
</div> <p>Obviously, songs featured in this fic aren't mine. Just make-believing that they are the characters' song/s. Pls. give them a listen in your preferred app.</p><p>Thanks to lucianafromnaples and mjacton for their ever constant support, to MarRed2020, memoized, &amp; JustCrushALot for being there when I need them, and to you for reading.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
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